Earth, Sea, Purgatory
by Tessa Marlene
Summary: Dick Roman is dead. Dean is in purgatory, Sam's alone on earth, and Castiel is somewhere he's been before. Tag to season finale.
1. Dean

They are not dogs. They are not hellhounds either. Dean would prefer either of those to whatever the fuck is looking at him from amongst the trees.

He feels his body heat up, as if the red eyes are burning him from the inside. Running is an option, except he doesn't know these 'things.' They could be jumpers, or flyers. They could be fast like Jaguars. He might not get far before one pounces on him and locks him in place for the rest. From his experience in the woods he knows that's what they'd do. Wild animals always pounce when their prey tries to get away.

Except, this isn't the woods, and these aren't wild animals. Fuck if he knows what they are or if knowledge means anything here. The only knowledge that matters is that the bitches are getting closer. He's sure that one wasn't standing there before. It was back near that downed tree. And there are extra pairs of eyes looking at him now, new guests who likely arrived after he first laid eyes on them.

That's when he thinks to hell with it and runs. He skirts a fallen log and jumps over a cluster of…something. Pebbles, bones, it doesn't matter. It catches the top of his boot though and trips him forward. The trees embrace him and he catches himself against a trunk. His hand brushes a bark; it feels like coarse skin against his palm and has bumps that resemble fingertips jutting out.

The creatures have launched themselves after him. He hears them breathe somewhere nearby. A glance left shows him red dots in the trees. They are at his heals and all around him, flanking his escape route and getting closer. They can take him out anytime they want to. His bowels tighten and his feet get wobbly. He steps in another unknown pile and this time he can't stop himself from hurtling. He goes down messily. There's no time to consider the pain. He springs up - hands and knees scraping mud and nostrils filling with the stench of gore. He starts running again. His ankle screams at him and he ignores it. No time for trivial things like joint injuries when he's got shit to worry about like staying alive.

It's then that one of them jumps him. He was distracted by his ankle and didn't see it coming. It tackles him to the ground, rolls him three times and flattens him on his back. It towers over him, growling like a rabid hyena. It's the first time he is seeing one of them up close and the sight chills him. It's not a dog, it's not a hellhound. It's worse than anything he's ever seen before.

The skeletal head is covered with greasy long hair that brushes against his cheeks. It reminds him of that creepy girl in The Ring movies. It moves like that girl too, jerky convulsive shifts that are fast as a flash frame and slow down when it peers into his eyes. Its eyes are glowing red. No lids or pupils or irises. Just burning coals in a skull that's caked with ash. The body – the part that is animal the most – has thick, slimy fur the color of its hair. It's got arms and legs that are bent backwards at the joints but end in human feet and hands, hands that dig talons into his upper arms.

The creature is salivating all over his face. The others are getting closer and Dean can't free himself from the claws. He can't get up or avoid the mouth opening above him. It shows rows of needle-like teeth inches away from his face. It wants to rip off his nose, his eyelids, his cheek. There's no escape and no hope now. He lets his head fall back and looks at the sky, at the dirty moon and the shredded clouds around it. When he feels the first sting of teeth he closes his eyes and hides himself deep within his soul where Sam and Cas are waiting.


	2. Sam

"Looks like you are well and truly on your own."

Crowley's last words echo in the empty lab long after he is gone. Sam looks around. Damaged equipment, splatter on the walls, emptiness that yawns. He is scared, and screwed. He should've held onto Dean; should've watched over him when he went for the kill. He should've been there right next to him, next to Cas, held onto them so neither would get blown away by the blast. That bone had been an unknown element; such things always came with a fine print in the manual. They should've predicted it. Dean should not have done it alone. Sam and Dean. Always as one. Only Dean had asked him to rescue Kevin and he'd gotten to the lab late. It had been sloppy on all fronts and all it did was giving Crowley his absolute victory.

Crowley was the only one left. Dean was gone. Bobby was gone. Meg was nowhere to be found. And Cas…Cas was gone too, taking with him the only ally he could count on to save Dean. Sam would have to do it all by himself, with no clues where to start.

He looks at the spot where Kevin had disappeared, at the leviathan corpses scattered around. He should probably start with the bodies; do something with the heads so they won't get reattached. He should keep the remaining leviathans from reorganizing like Crowley had suggested, stop the delivery of the poisoned food, warn people, kill the rest of the bad guys. He should find those who have been infected and help them. Find Dean. Find Cas. Save Dean with help from Cas. Save Dean so they could do everything together. He should not do anything before saving Dean first.

Sam's breath starts speeding up. There are dots in his vision and he can't tell them from the splashed leviathan goo on the walls. The air around him is thick with fumes from dead flesh and strong chemicals. This place is hostile, scarier now than when it was swarming with monsters. Loneliness is a suffocating swell and Sam feels its volume more than ever now.

He turns to look at the door, looks at the corpses again. He should clean them up, separate the heads from the bodies, stop the shipment of the creamers, find Kevin's mom, warn people about the food, find Crowley, find Meg…he needs to get out of here.

Something clicks. He looks up. It's the clock. He's already late. He hears movement in the halls. Demons or Levis, it doesn't matter. He realizes he is frozen, can't bring himself to leave the spot where Dean has disappeared. Not that he's hoping Dean would come back magically. He simply doesn't know where to go. If Cas were here he would tell him. If Bobby were here he would scout the area for clues. If Meg were here she would fight the enemy until Sam figured out what to do.

If Kevin were here he'd probably dragged him out already.

But nobody is here. He is the only one left and he's useless and helpless and alone. He can't move his body, can't draw in breath, can't walk, or hide from the enemy marching outside. All he can do is stand and repeat the image of Dean and Cas disappearing in his head and wait for the monsters to arrive.


	3. Castiel

AN: This chapter was partly inspired by R. C. McLachlan's beautiful story "Named", which could be found on the site here: s/6620318/1/Named

xxx

Castiel wakes up and instantly knows where he is. Sea breeze wafts over his face, fluttering his eyelashes like dandelion feathers. The sky is the same as the previous times, gray blue with no clouds, no sun, no birds or any other sign of life. He sits up and looks at the sea on his right. It's deep blue and quiet. No movement except for gentle waves touching the sands.

He stares ahead, thoughts of his upcoming visitor tumble through his mind. He wonders when he would show up this time. The first time he was here they left him to wander the shore for days - frayed soles at the bottom of his (illusory) shoes and a prayer of forgiveness to his father on his lips - until the other appeared. The second time the meeting was immediate. They didn't give him time to adjust even after he was blown apart by Satan.

A glance at the distance answers his question as he sees the shape of a human standing on the shore. He sighs and gets off the ground, brushes sand from his pant legs and begins walking. His trench coat bellows behind him; his shoes make crunching noises on the sand. They've left him in his vessel again, like an inevitable detail that had to happen every time. He doesn't mind it, prefers it in fact. His vessel has been a part of him for so long he would feel naked without it.

When he gets there the person waiting for him smiles. He has chosen the form of a forty year old man with gentle brown eyes and neatly combed hair. Father or husband to someone, although Castiel knows he is neither. He is not even a man.

"I see you are back, Castiel."

"You have observed correctly, Metatron."

Metatron tilts his head, looks at him like he is a puzzle that needs to be solved.

"How many times has it been now?"

"Three, four if you count my death in the lake, though I didn't come here that time. And this time I didn't even die."

"Ahhh, but you were about to, had I not pulled you out of there in time."

"You are very generous."

The brown eyes darken. "It's not _my_ generosity that saves you, Castiel. I wished I knew where the directive came from but I am not one to question such things." He leaves it to hang between them like an accusation. Castiel wonders what he hopes to achieve by that, seeing as both of them have been here and gotten nowhere.

"Let me guess, you want to go back," Metatron adds. He locks his hands behind his back and starts pacing around him in a slow circle. Castiel doesn't answer, figures the obvious doesn't merit repeating.

"Very well then. Please tell me where I should return you to?"

Both times he died and awakened on this shore he was presented with a choice: Whether he wanted to stay and serve the Host, or go back to earth and be with the Winchesters. Both times he chose earth, although the second time included a stop at his quiet Tuesday afternoon for rest and recuperation.

Never before has Metatron asked him where he wanted to go, which means something is different this time. This time there is a third option.

"What do you mean where?"

Metatron shrugs. "You can go back to purgatory and try your chances there, or you can go back to earth and continue your existence amongst the sinner and mortals."

It clicks. He understands. Dean is no longer on earth. Dean is in purgatory, fighting for his life against spiteful monsters. Sam is on earth alone, left to fight for humanity in a place crawling with demons and leviathans. Castiel is presented with two places to go, and for the first time he doesn't know which one to choose.

Metatron stares at him with a broad smile. His face radiates the pleasure he must feel inside. Twice he's faced rejection. Twice he tried to convince Castiel to come back, to cease his rebellious ways and accept the dominion of the Host. Both times he's been turned down. He knows Castiel would not leave Dean to face those monsters alone. He knows Dean would not forgive Castiel if the angel refuses to go back and aid Sam. He knows either way Castiel will lose and the triumph of that knowledge shines in his eyes.

In reality Castiel only has one choice, and they both know what it is.

"If I agree to stay," Castiel says in a voice devoid of emotion or inflection, "If I stay and serve heaven, will you promise to save Sam and Dean from death?"

Metatron raises his eyebrows. "Who says they're in danger of death? They _are_ in dire situations, but your boys are both quite resourceful. I'd imagine they could pull themselves out of those tight spots eventually."

Castiel looks at him, blue eyes reflecting the pallet of the ocean. "You know what I mean."

Metatron drops the smile. He loses the tilt of his head and the kindness in his eyes, matches Castiel's unflinching stare evenly and says, "Will you swear to serve heaven and the hierarchy above you unquestioningly?"

"Yes."

"Will you promise to never return to earth and the Winchesters unless you are ordered to?"

It takes him longer to respond but eventually he gives the answer. "Yes."

"Then I assure you both Winchesters will be safeguarded until time comes for them to reunite."

"They will be reunited now."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said you will reunite the Winchesters now. That is my condition for retaking my place among the Host."

"How dramatic, Castiel. May I remind you, you have absolutely no leverage here?"

"Perhaps you should take that up with Joshua. Ask him what father thinks of my position."

Metatron pauses. Castiel knows his gamble has paid off, even if he still doesn't know why. He has never met father, but father has brought him back three times. That should count for something.

"Fine. I will talk to Joshua. We will see what we can do to get Dean Winchester out of purgatory."

"Thank you," Castiel nods.

Metatron puts the smile back on his face. He raises his hand as if to usher Castiel to his side. Castiel goes. He knows the path, and what is to come next. He doesn't care about any of it in the face of what is happening elsewhere in the universe. He is content with what he has achieved. Maybe this was the last of his punishment resurrections and the start of his forgiveness. And maybe destiny will lead him to earth and Sam and Dean again, sometime in near or distant future.


End file.
